Em (The Summer My Life Began Book 1) Page 7

  My phone buzzes, snapping me to attention, and I check the display. Grandmother. I haven’t talked to her since my arrival.

  “Hello, Grandmother,” I answer.

  “Elizabeth Margaret, how are you?”

  After days of being called Em, my full name sounds odd. “Fine, thank you.”

  “I had dinner with your parents last night and they knew I would be calling you this morning. They both say hello.”

  “That’s nice.” I forget how formal conversations are with her. This is almost painful! “Do you want to talk to Aunt Tilly?”

  “No, I do not wish to talk to Matilda.”

  I want so much to tell my grandmother how great Tilly is, but it will fall on deaf ears. Instead, I say, “You should talk to Frederick sometime. He’s great.”

  Silence.

  “So you are doing well?” she asks, ignoring my comment. “Do you need anything? Money? More clothes? Anything?”

  My lips curve into a sad smile. “I’m fine. Thank you, though. And Grandmother?”

  “Yes?”

  I take a deep breath. “Aunt Tilly told me about Grandfather. I’m so sorry. I had no idea he died the day she was born.”

  Grandmother sucks in a breath.

  I wait for a response, but nothing comes. “Grandmother?”

  “Thank you for that,” she quietly says.

  “You’re wel—”

  “Now, your father,” she interrupts, back to being formal. “Your father asked me to remind you to keep up with your law reading. You don’t want to start your internship already behind.”

  “Okay,” I answer, wishing she would’ve said something about Grandfather instead.

  “All right then. I’ll call again next week. Good-bye, Elizabeth Margaret.”

  “Good-bye, Grandmother.”

  She clicks off, and I stand here staring off into the kitchen at nothing in particular. I’ve spent my entire life with a person I feel about as comfortable with as a stranger. Yet I’ve spent so little time at The Pepper House and feel more at home than I have in my whole life.

  “Em, did you hear me?”

  I glance up at Domino. “Sorry. What’d you say?”

  “I said you’re in charge of the quiche this morning.”

  I pause, letting his words sink in. “But that’s the main dish.”

  “I know.” He opens the refrigerator and takes out milk. He also grabs a stick of butter and tosses it at me. “You’re allowed to alter the recipe in one way only if you like. See you in a bit,” he says, closing the refrigerator and walking from the kitchen.

  “Wait, where are you going?”

  “Get started. I’ll be back!”

  Thirty minutes later he still hasn’t returned and I’ve thrown myself into the project. I roll out nine-inch crusts and line multiple pie plates. I follow the recipe. He said I was allowed to alter it one way only and so I add Dijon mustard to spice things up.

  On the crusts, I spread the Dijon and then layer it with mild deer sausage, tomatoes, green peppers, onions, and asiago-garlic shredded cheese. I whip the eggs in equal parts yolks and whites, add milk, and carefully pour it down over the other ingredients.

  Aunt Tilly, Frederick, and Beth come and go from the kitchen, but I barely notice them as I immerse myself in the simple pleasure of putting together a delicious meal. By the time I slip the breakfast pies in the oven, I’ve completely forgotten about my phone call with Grandmother.

  In fact, I feel like a new person.

  Domino finally reappears. “Okay, I’m back. What do you want me to do?”

  I give him a disciplinary look, to which he innocently shrugs. “Let’s get this fruit salad made.”

  Thirty minutes later the guests have been served, and Domino and I are in the process of cleaning the kitchen.

  Aunt Tilly pushes through the swinging doors, carrying the first set of empty plates. I glance up expectantly, eager to hear what the guests think.

  She looks right at me. “The couple in Cottage Two wants to know the recipe.”

  My eyes widen. “That’s good, right?”

  Aunt Tilly laughs. “That’s more than good.” She gives me a little shove. “Go on out and say hi.”

  Giving in to my grin, I walk toward the door. “A chef never tells her secret!”

  Chapter 15

  A few days later, Domino and I have made a killer frittata for breakfast and are busy cleaning up.

  “So, I don’t know anything about you—and as your sous chef, I think I should know the basics.”

  He waves me on. “Shoot.”

  “Where’re you from?”

  “Born and raised right here.”

  “Really? Somehow I pictured you vacationing here and never leaving.”

  Domino laughs. “I don’t think I’ve ever been that free-spirited. I leave that kind of stuff to Tilly.”

  Taking the plastic wrap, I tear off a sheet. “I remember when I visited Brazil, Gwenny and I fantasized about just disappearing into the jungle and living our lives with one of the indigenous groups.”

  “Yep, that’s definitely something your aunt would do.” Domino hands me a bowl of sliced mango, and I spread the plastic wrap over it.

  “I think Brazil is probably one of my favorite places.” I put the mango in the refrigerator and close the door. “Where’s the coolest place you’ve been to?”

  “Never been off the island.”

  “So, where’d you learn to cook?”

  Squirting soap into a pan, he takes a scrubber and starts in. “Self-taught.”

  “But you’re so talented. I just assumed you’d been to culinary school.”

  He runs water on the scrubber. “Why? You’re self-taught.”

  I stare at him for a second. Huh, right. I am.

  “It’s called talent, and we both have it.”

  I keep staring at him. I do have talent, I admit to myself. Although I’ve never thought of it that way before.

  He goes back to scrubbing the pan and I spray diluted vinegar on the granite counter. Taking a paper towel, I wipe.

  “You any good at baking?” Domino asks.

  I crinkle my nose. “Other than a decent sugar cookie, desserts aren’t really my thing.”

  “Me neither. Every chef’s got their talent.” He rinses the pan. “Now, Beth’s a good baker. She’s always bringing in goodies she’s made at home.”

  “Where is she, by the way? I haven’t seen her yet this morning.”

  “She’s scrubbing grout today.” He nods toward the refrigerator. “She’s probably thirsty.”

  “Oh, sure.” I take my apron off, snatch a water bottle from the fridge, and go in search of Beth.

  When I walk out the back of The Pepper House I run right into Cade. He wears the same red board shorts I’ve already seen him in quite a few times, and once again, he has his shirt off. He crouches beside an old glider, tightening the screws. We still haven’t said much to each other since our disagreement over my mom and his dad.

  I take a chance, hoping he’s over it. “Hey,” I say.

  He glances up. “Hey.” Then he goes right back to work.

  So much for that. I stand for a few seconds, studying the sweaty, tanned muscles in his back as he continues tightening the screws. He turns a little and I catch another glimpse of the tiny ring he wears around his neck.

  I search for something else to say and remember something my aunt said. “Hey, Aunt Tilly said you surf?”

  “Yep.”

  “I’d be up for a lesson if you’re interested.”

  Cade glances up at me again. He doesn’t say anything at first, just studies me. “Uh, okay, sure.”

  “Great.” I smile. “We friends again?”

  His lips do that little half-smile that sends flutters through my stomach. “Yeah, we’re friends.”

  “So, uh, maybe tomorrow?”

  “Sure.”

  “Great.” I nod to the cottage. “Beth in there?”

 
“Scrubbing grout.”

  “I heard.” I wrinkle my nose.

  “It’s hard work.”

  Holding up the water bottle, I say, “Maybe this will help.”

  “See ya.”

  “Yep, see ya.” I head on toward the cottage. As I near it, I chance a glance back and catch Cade looking at me. He quickly goes back to work, and those flutters in my stomach backflip.

  When I enter the cottage I find Frederick and Beth down on their hands and knees scrubbing at the grout that separates the tiles. “Now, that looks fun.”

  They both glare at me.

  I pass Beth the bottle of water, then wisely and quickly pick up a brush. “Need help?”

  “Yes!” Frederick says.

  If only my mom could see me now. She’d have a fit.

  ~*~

  Two hours later we’ve scrubbed the entire cottage’s tile floor, brushed on sealant, and kicked back with some cold sodas.

  I pop the top on mine and look across the cottage’s kitchen at Beth. With the sleeve of her T-shirt, she wipes her face and then stretches her neck from right to left. She looks absolutely exhausted.

  “How long have you been here?” I ask.

  She yawns. “Since five this morning.” She glances at the clock hanging on the wall. “I’ll start in on the other one here in a few. Then I’ll move onto the main house.”

  “Well, I don’t have anything planned for the day. I’ll help you with it all,” I say.

  My cousin nods. “Count me in as well. Scrubbing grout is definitely not a one-person job. This is crazy hard work.”

  “No!” Beth shakes her head. “That’s ridiculous. You shouldn’t have even helped me here. I’m getting paid for this. You’re not.”

  Frederick shrugs. “What are friends for?”

  Beth gets up. “Okay, but dinner out and it’s on me.”

  “Deal!”

  By late that afternoon we’re sufficiently sweaty and also done with everything. None of us want to see grout again for at least another year.

  Beth throws our cleaning supplies into a bucket. “You two are incredible. Thank you so much! Dinner out. How ’bout the Crazy Chicken? They’ve got the best wings.”

  My cousin and I exchange a tired, but hungry nod. “Sounds good.”

  “Meet you there in an hour.” With that, she’s gone.

  She rides her bike home to shower and change. Thirty minutes later Frederick and I are ready to go. We say bye to Aunt Tilly, find the van gone, and climb onto Frederick’s moped.

  He drives and I double behind him as he pulls out onto the coastal highway. Neither one of us speaks as we putt-putt along enjoying the warm breeze, the setting sun, and the expanse of ocean to our right.

  Eventually we near the marina. That huge boat still sits there floating at the end of the dock. I catch sight of a gray-haired man sitting in the pilot house gazing out at the ocean. If he’s a celebrity, I don’t recognize him.

  “Do you know who owns that yacht?” I ask Frederick.

  “No idea.”

  We lapse back into silence as we continue along. Sometime later he cuts through the same cemetery Cade had shown me before. We peak the hilltop and roll down the other side, heading toward town.

  In my peripheral vision, I catch sight of a movement and turn to look. Sid stands in the distance with his head bowed as he stares at a grave. He glances up at the same time and our gazes meet.

  I give him a little wave and he nods his head in return. Minutes later we pull into the small parking lot of the Crazy Chicken, where Beth stands waiting.

  She smiles and waves. “Already got a table.”

  Frederick and I follow her through the crowded, outdoor restaurant and take a seat. People wave and yell hellos to the three of us, reminding me once again what a small island it is. I’m happy to be included in the hellos, even though I recognize only a few people.

  We order virgin daiquiris, a bucket of wings, and a basket of fries. While Beth chats with someone at the table beside us, I take a second to look around.

  The word “Rustic” pops into my head as I take in the picnic-style tables, old-fashioned tools hanging from the rafters, and fans circling slowly overhead.

  A waiter brings our daiquiris. “Hi,” he says to me as he puts the glass down.

  I smile into his too-cute dark eyes. “Hi, back.”

  Beth turns away from her conversation. “Oh, good. I was hoping you’d stop by and say howdy.” She grabs his arm. “Em, I want you to meet a good friend of mine, Jeremy. His parents own the place. Jeremy, this is Frederick’s cousin, Em.”

  Jeremy and I shake hands.

  “Nice to meet you. Welcome to the island. Are you here for the whole summer?” Jeremy asks.

  “Just for the month,” Beth answers for me. “She’s staying at The Pepper. You two should get together.”

  I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Can she be any more obvious?

  “That would be fun.” He turns toward the kitchen. “Sorry, I gotta go. We’re busy tonight.”

  I nod. “Nice to meet you.”

  He hurries off, and I make no attempt to hide my interest. Tall, lean, dark-brown hair, tan, clean-cut, great smile. Definitely my kind of guy.

  Beth leans in. “He’s twenty and goes to college on the mainland. He’s back for the summer. Super smart. Very nice. And single.”

  Super smart, nice, good-looking, and single. It doesn’t get much better than that. But something nags at me, though I can’t say what.

  “Perfect for a little summer romance,” Beth suggestively teases.

  “You sound like my sister.” Yet the idea definitely intrigues me. I push any nagging thoughts aside and mull it over a bit as I sip my drink.

  Jeremy returns and puts a stack of napkins in the center of our table. “Hey, how about tomorrow night?” he asks.

  I don’t hide my surprise. “Sure!”

  “Great!” He slides his phone from his back pocket. “Can I have your number?”

  I rattle it off and he types it in.

  “I’ll give you a call.” With a warm smile for me, he heads off.

  “See?” Beth sashays her shoulders. “Now you’re all set.”

  “I can’t believe it was that easy!”

  Frederick snorts. “Girls.”

  Chapter 16

  Just like he said, the next morning Jeremy calls. “I’ve only got a few minutes. I’m opening the restaurant this morning. But how about I pick you up at six tonight? We’ll do dinner?”

  “Sounds great.”

  “Okay, see you then. I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Me too.” I grin as I hang up. I can’t believe I have a date! Gwenny will be shocked. Quickly I text her to let her know and when I trot down the back steps and enter the kitchen, I run right into Aunt Tilly.

  “Guess what? I have a date!”

  She gives an excited hop. “Oh, with who?”

  Her silliness makes me just as silly. “Jeremy. His parents—”

  “Own the Crazy Chicken. Oh, he’s so nice. He’s from a good family. And he’s handsome.”

  I laugh. “That he is.”

  Grinning, she claps her hands. “Now we definitely have to go shopping!”

  “Shopping?”

  “Yes, for clothes. A new outfit. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

  Yes, it does! “I’d love to, but I’m supposed to go surfing with Cade. Let me just tell him I’m heading off with you instead.”

  “Oh, well, I don’t want to mess up your plans with Cade.”

  I wave her off. “No, I want to go with you. I’m sure Cade won’t mind.”

  I find him in the side yard pruning the bushes. “Hi.”

  He smiles at me and it shoots warmth straight through my body.

  “Aunt Tilly wants to take me shopping. Can we surf tomorrow?” His smile drops a little and I feel horrible. “I’m sorry to cancel last-minute.”

  “No, it’s okay. Surf’s not that good today anyway
. We’ll try the same time tomorrow.” He goes back to the bushes. “Have fun with Tilly.”

  “Thanks.” I back away, still looking at Cade. But he doesn’t return my look. I hope he isn’t too upset.

  Within minutes Aunt Tilly has left Domino and Frederick in charge of things, we grab our purses, and we’re heading into town for a day of shopping.

  I can’t remember ever being so excited about going shopping. Mom and I never do anything so spontaneous. “This is going to be fun.”

  “This is going to be beyond fun. You’ll love this place I’m taking you to.”

  Aunt Tilly turns on classic rock and the sounds of Fleetwood Mac fill the van. “Em?”

  “Hm?”

  “You being here means the world to me.”

  We share a smile. “Thanks, Aunt Tilly.”

  She slips on her sunglasses, singing softly to the music. Sometime later, we pull into a small store with retro flowers painted it on the front and sides. Aunt Tilly links fingers with me as we stroll inside. Air-conditioning, mild vanilla incense, and wonderful clothes greet us. As does an elderly lady dressed in a smart business suit with chic short gray hair.

  “Tilly!” The lady hugs my aunt before turning to me. “You’ve got to be Em.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Tilly puts her arm around me. “Em, this is Grammy.”

  “Grammy?”

  The lady lets out a husky laugh. “Everyone on this island calls me Grammy. Now, what can I do you for?”

  “Em needs new clothes,” Aunt Tilly says. “She likes my style, but needs her own twist.”

  With a nod, Grammy steeples her fingers against her pursed lips and studies me. She twirls her finger in the air, indicating I should turn, and I obey, rotating in a slow circle.

  When I come back around, Grammy claps her hands. “Got it.”

  Then she’s off. Like a tornado whipping through the store, she pulls things off the racks and stacks them in a dressing room.

  While she does her thing, my eyes wander to a painting hanging behind the checkout counter. It depicts a dad and son fishing. I recognize the same realistic style and colors as the others I’ve admired. But this one feels sadder.